


Primed to Go Off

by achievemenhunter



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Choking, Dom/sub, GTAV AU, M/M, Smut, dom!Ryan, slight dubcon, sub!gavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievemenhunter/pseuds/achievemenhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin is easily the most infuriating member of the Fake AH Crew.</p><p>And Geoff goes and lumps Ryan with him for a mission where they'll be alone together in a confined space for four hours.</p><p>Fucking perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primed to Go Off

**Author's Note:**

> So, I lost the actual prompt for this because I had it all saved in my Outbox on tumblr and then my Xkit went and fucked up, but I still remember the general gist of it.
> 
> This one is for the ever-wonderful Lysa_Bell. Thank you for being so patient about me posting this prompt, lovely.
> 
> Warnings in the tags.

"I've got a job for you, Ryan." Geoff draped himself over the designer chair, one of the many dotted around the ludicrously spacious lounge room of his penthouse apartment. He wasn't sure if he was actually sitting the right way on the artistic piece of furniture - he certainly wasn't sitting comfortably - but he didn't care. The chair had cost five figures and he was going to sit in it, dammit. 

 

Ryan didn't look up from the gun he was cleaning. "When _don't_ you have a job for me?" he asked mildly, purposefully smudging more gun oil onto the thick glass top of the coffee table that was scattered with gun parts, primarily because he knew it drove Geoff insane.

 

The older man's eye twitched and he forced himself relax. His bowtie was loose around his neck and there was a bottle of whiskey drooping from his fingers, which he lifted to his lips to take a calming sip, the picture of nonchalance.

 

"Well, that's what I'm paying you for," he drawled, resisting the urge to try and squirm into a more comfortable position. Seriously, who the fuck had designed this chair? But Geoff had committed now, there was no way he could let on that his entire abdomen was tensed to keep himself from sliding to the floor.

 

"Jason Fielding," Geoff said, like it explained everything. Ryan raised an eyebrow while keeping his gaze on the gun part he was wiping down. A few seconds later, after Geoff gave up on waiting for Ryan to respond with any level of interest or enthusiasm, he continued, "Started off as a trust fund kid, but over the years he's used daddy's money to fashion himself into a little drug lord. Normally I'd just let him do his thing - he's small fish, wouldn't've thought he'd make many ripples - but he's been expanding his business enterprises into prostitution, and word is he's treating his girls without any kind of respect."

 

"They're whores, that's not a job that's going to garner them a whole lot of respect," Ryan replied dispassionately, slotting pieces of the gun back together. Internally, he felt an instant and extreme dislike for Fielding. His callous words were more to rile Geoff up than a reflection of his own attitude.

 

Geoff gave up on his struggle with non-user-friendly chair and leaned forward, staring at Ryan so intensely that the younger man seemed to feel it. At any rate, he finally met Geoff's eyes, and didn't look away.

 

"Listen to me carefully," Geoff told him, jabbing one finger at him around the bottle of whiskey. "No woman deserves to be treated the way he's been treating his. You know that's why we're so strict on the clientele that use ours." His lips were a thin, bloodless slash in his face. "He's already taken it too far, more than once. He's killed three of his girls. There's another two in hospital, and at least another five that are too scared to look for proper medical help. Of course, doesn't help him that he's gotten the stupid idea of starting to push into our territory." He stood, hands curled loosely as he stood. "I want you to make him bleed," he said softly, and Ryan snapped the clip into place. There were certain lines that even the worst didn't cross if they wanted to survive in Ramsey's town.

 

"When?"

 

"This Saturday. Some celebrity starlet's got her twenty-first birthday party then, there'll be a giant fireworks display." He grinned wolfishly. "No one's gonna notice one little rifle shot with all that noise."

 

"Where?"

 

"Vantage point from the top of Mount Haan, a little ways off from Mount Haan Drive. There's a nice little line-of-sight that will give you a clear shot directly into Fielding's living room in his mansion in Rockford Hills. Come eight o'clock, he'll be sitting on his couch, watching the Corker's game." He mimed lining up a shot with a rifle and smiled. "Piece of cake." He got up, glad to be out of the stupid chair, and sauntered over to the dining table, draining the rest of his whiskey as he went. "Here," he said, scooping up a manila folder and dropping it on top of the disassembled guns. Ryan obligingly put down his pistol and started flicking through the photos and documents inside. "Scouting's already been done, so it's pretty cut-and-dry for you."

 

Ryan frowned over the files. "According to this, he has bulletproof rolling shutters that go down automatically at sunset. I think he might realise something's up if they don't go down." Rich and paranoid people were always some of the most annoying people to deal with.

 

Geoff included.

 

"Keep reading," Geoff replied affably, waving his hand. "They're on silent tracks, and he'll have the volume cranked anyway. They'll go down at sunset, he won't see or hear them going back up at ten to nine."

 

"And just how am I supposed to make them go back up? He's not just going to hand over the remote," Ryan grumbled as he continued reading, his languid irritation freezing as he read the next few words. His eyes flicked sharply towards Geoff's. "No."

 

"It's a two-man job, Ryan," Geoff warned, folding his arms. "Gavin's the only one in the crew who can reliably disable that security system."

 

"Geoff, no. I'm not working with him."

 

"You absolutely are," Geoff countered in a voice that brooked no argument.

 

Ryan argued anyway. "Geoff, he's _infuriating_. We'd have to get in position hours before sunset with nothing to do. You seriously think that I'm going to put up with a bored Gavin for the better part of four hours?" He shook his head. "I'd put a bullet in him within fifteen minutes."

 

Geoff snatched up the gun from the coffee table and shot a hole through the seat of the stupid, idiotically designed chair. At least, he assumed it was the seat. He still wasn't sure. Whatever.

 

He levelled the pistol between Ryan's eyes and growled, "You touch that kid, and you'll wish that I just shot you now. You _will_ go on this hit, you _will_ take Gavin with you, and you _will_ stop acting like a fucking child." His eyes were icy. "That clear?"

 

"Yessir," Ryan replied without a trace of irony, gaze downcast. There was only so far he could push Geoff, and it was clear he'd pushed a little too far this time.

 

Geoff lowered the gun after a few seconds, placing it back on the oil-smeared table. "Good," he said firmly, then promptly turned on his heel. "And make sure you clean off that table once you're done, or I might just shoot you anyway."

 

~* * *~

 

Once the mission actually started, Ryan began to wonder if letting Geoff shoot him would have been a better option.

 

They were already in place, Ryan having driven the four-wheel drive up Mount Haan a few hours before, being sure to park well away from the Vinewood sign. It was supposed to be a no-hiking zone - there were enough signs around to make that abundantly clear - but there might always be the odd selfie-taking tourists that seemed to conveniently forget how to read, not to mention the delinquents that liked to add their tags to the sprawl of graffiti on the back of the giant letters.

 

Gavin had not shut up the entire fucking time.

 

_Oi Ryan, d'you reckon that shagging in space would work, or would you just keep floating away from one another?_

 

_Hey, what d'you think having a penis like a duck, one of those corkscrew ones, would feel like during sex?_

 

_Oh, I've got one - if you were dying, if you had, like, cancer or something, and the only cure was for you to get bummed, would you do it?_

 

_Hey Ryan, what if your legs didn't know they were legs?_

 

"So, what if-" Gavin began yet another hypothetical question. For the first two hours, Ryan had been entirely silent, but this hadn't seemed to stem Gavin's cheerful needling questions, most of which had been sexual in nature. Ryan had switched to terse and aggressive answers, but there had been no appreciable reduction in the frequency of Gavin's mouth opening.

 

"No." Ryan's tone was flat, dangerous, clearly indicating his displeasure at the fact that Gavin was still speaking. Anyone with even a skerrick of common-sense would have immediately dropped the attempt at conversation.

 

Unfortunately, the phrases 'common sense' and 'Gavin Free' didn't exactly mesh.

 

"You get a million dollars, but-"

 

"I would just rob a bank to get the money. I don't need your hypothetical million."

 

Gavin steamrolled over the end of Ryan's sentence like he hadn't even spoken. "-For a whole year, your balls're attached to your bellend instead of the base," he finished triumphantly, a wide, proud grin on his face.

 

The older man stared unsettlingly at him for a few long moments, but Gavin refused to let his smile dim, just looking at Ryan expectantly.

 

Ryan let out a low growl at glowered at the setting sun.

 

"Aw, you're not even going to think about it?" Gavin pouted, going as far as to bat his eyelashes. Ryan remained unmoved.

 

"No."

 

"It's not like it would be _that_ bad anyway," Gavin goaded, trying to force Ryan into the one-sided conversation. "I mean, you would have to hold them out of the way when you're taking a piss-"

 

"Stop." Ryan's voice was soft and his face was set like he was about to murder someone. Presumably, Gavin.

 

"-But just imagine for sex-"

 

"Absolutely not."

 

"-You'd have to work at it to get it in there, but once you got it all _in_ -"

 

Ryan gritted his teeth, grabbing onto the steering wheel with a vice-like grip and doing his best to think of a calm blue ocean, but he was practically at his limit for dealing with Gavin's stupid ramblings.

 

"-Come on, Rye-Bread, you have to admit it'd feel pretty damn-"

 

 _"Gavin,"_ Ryan all but snarled, the sunset glow fiercely lighting the side of his face.

 

"What?" The Brit's face was innocent, seemingly uncomprehending of just how far he was pushing Ryan.

 

The older man exploded into action, pivoting in his seat and his left hand locking around the younger man's neck.

 

"Shut up or I swear to _god_ I will cut your fucking tongue out," he hissed, pressing Gavin against his seat by the throat. The younger man's blunt fingernails scrabbled uselessly against the back of his hand, eyes wide.

 

Just as suddenly as he'd started strangling Gavin, Ryan let go, leaving Gavin to gasp in the stale car air like it was glacier-fresh.

 

"Jesus Christ, you're intense," he muttered to himself, voice hoarse and holding the side panel of the door for support as he dragged air back into his lungs. "…So, is that a yes or a no?"

 

Ryan wanted to slam his head against the steering wheel. "Okay, since obviously the threat of bodily harm doesn't seem to register as Not Good for you, why don't you just tell me what the fuck I have to do _\- besides_ indulging your ridiculous hypothetical bullshit, because I am _not_ doing that - to get you to stop talking?"

 

Gavin was actually silent for a few moments, sans his still slightly laboured breathing. Then, he quietly mumbled, "…Well maybe you could choke me a bit more, then."

 

The words hung between them for a second or two, then Ryan snorted. "Fucking figures," he muttered. Gavin flushed bright red, hands crushed between his knees.

 

"All right, get in the back." Ryan jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

 

The Brit stared at him. "What?"

 

Ryan just raised an eyebrow. "You really think we're going to have the space to do anything in the front?"

 

Gavin's face lit up even as Ryan's became thunderous.

 

"Move, Gavin. I'm not in the mood for this."

 

The younger man threw a shit-eating grin his way, cocky now that he was sure that he was going to get what he wanted. "Well, then, I better help you with that," he purred, leaning across the centre console and sliding his hand up Ryan's inner thigh.

 

The older man grabbed his wrist and yanked Gavin forward, shoving him bodily through the gap between the two front seats. Gavin's limbs and torso knocked against various surfaces within the four wheel drive before sprawling against the back seat, feet resting on the case of Ryan's rifle. Ryan climbed in after him, shoving the younger man back down when he tried to rise. Gavin gasped and moaned, hips snapping up involuntarily as Ryan's thigh pressed between his.

 

"You _infuriate_ me," Ryan growled, forcing him down against the seat.

 

Gavin's grin was a wild, victorious thing. "What're you going to do about- ah!" His sentence stopped abruptly, head flinging back and mouth open in a quiet gasp as Ryan's teeth sank into his neck. The delicate skin of Gavin's throat broke, but didn't bleed, and Ryan sucked harshly, drawing an incoherent sound from the younger man.

 

Ryan rubbed his thigh against Gavin's crotch and the Brit rutted up against him almost immediately, hands clenching at the upholstery because he didn't quite have the nerve to drape his arms around over Ryan's shoulders. 

 

"Goddammit," Ryan muttered roughly, tearing at Gavin's shirt. Luckily, the Brit had chosen to wear a Henley rather than a button-down, so it survived Ryan carelessly yanking it over Gavin's head. "Fucking riling me up like that, all those moronic sexual hypotheticals, you knew exactly what you were doing, you little shit."

 

 "Well, you're here now, aren't you?" Gavin replied triumphantly, only to let out another soft gasp as Ryan crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss. It was mostly teeth and tongue, mostly Ryan biting and tugging at Gavin's lips, then delving deep to taste everything the younger man had to offer. All the while, his thigh still pressed against Gavin's crotch, rolling in sinuous motions that had Gavin bucking upwards to rub against the bulge forming at the front of the older man's jeans, which only made the Brit moan more.

 

Ryan's hand slid up Gavin's side, then under the younger man's shoulder, fingers tightening in brunet hair and yanking back, forcing Gavin's neck to arch. Gavin swallowed thickly, automatically clinging to Ryan's back despite his earlier reservations. Ryan's lips latched onto his throat once more, hungrily leaving his mark. Delicious sounds fell from Gavin's mouth as he writhed against Ryan, doing his best to generate some friction between them.

 

"Knew I'd get to you eventually," Gavin gasped, a grin on his face. "Knew you'd give in."

 

"Don't act like you've won something important," Ryan glowered. "Everything _has_ to be a competition with you, doesn't it? Well, congratulations, Gavin. You're the most irritating, infuriating person on the planet. You must be so proud. Just look at the prize you've earned." He grabbed roughly at the younger man's lap, kneading none too gently. Gavin clamped his teeth down on his own lip and made an aroused noise.

 

"There's lube and a condom in my front pocket," he told Ryan smugly, if a little breathlessly. The hit man's scowl deepened as he pulled the two foil-wrapped packages from Gavin's jeans. God, how he hated the fact that Gavin had seen this coming before he had, had so clearly planned for things to go this way, had so easily manipulated Ryan into doing what he wanted.

 

Ryan flipped him over in a casual, one-handed motion, roughly shoving Gavin's stupid skinny jeans down his hips, heedless of the way the tight denim scraped the younger man's skin, underwear going along for the ride. His left hand clamped around the back of Gavin's neck, pinning him once more.

 

"You never fucking shut up, do you? Always gotta have the last word."

 

Gavin croaked something that might have been English, if the path between the Brit's brain and mouth hadn't been compromised. As it was, it just became a pitiful sound, the reduced flow of blood to his brain making his cock throb.

 

"Not this time," Ryan muttered vindictively, tearing open the packet of lube with his teeth before slathering it over his fingers, pushing one through the tight ring of Gavin's hole. Gavin whined, back arching against the intrusion as he tried to both pull away and to force Ryan deeper. His mouth gaped, cheek mashed against the upholstery, broken noises spilling from his lips as Ryan rapidly worked his way up to three fingers knuckle-deep, opening the younger man up with almost brutal efficiency.

 

Ryan's other hand remained tight around the Brit's neck, and even though it didn't quite shut him up, as he was letting out garbled moans with every move of the hit man's fingers inside him, it had at least stopped him from speaking. Which, of course, left the stage open for Ryan to do all the talking, a role that he took to with gusto.

 

"You're such a goddamn button-pusher," he growled, pushing his fingers particularly deep. Gavin made a sound that almost sounded like it could have been made in protest, but it was belied by the surge of precome that beaded at his tip and dribbled onto the inside of his jeans. "You treat everything, every _one_ , like they're some sort of puzzle for you to fuck up." He pumped his fingers in miniscule movements, perfectly circling Gavin's sweet spot until the younger man's cock was dripping. Gavin lifted one shaky hand from where he was gripping at the side of the seat, wanting to wrap his fingers around himself to get some relief, but Ryan roughly kneed his arm out of the way, seeing as his own hands were otherwise occupied. Gavin whimpered and went back to gripping the seat for support, his cock aching. "Think you can always just get what you want, because it's easier for everyone else to just give up instead of dealing with your bullshit." He leaned over Gavin's back, mouth right next to the Brit's ear as he rumbled, "But all you've really been doing is _begging_ someone to put you in your place. Look at you right now. You're so much better like this, when you can't say a _fucking word_." He punctuated the end of the sentence with two savage thrusts, forcing a muffled cry from Gavin's throat.

 

Suddenly, Ryan's hands both pulled away from Gavin, searching in the front seat pocket for something to wipe his fingers off on. Gavin blinked and gasped in lungfuls of air, body trembling as his arousal and need thrummed through him like a bass note, hanging heavy between his legs. Ryan found an old microfiber cloth and cleaned his fingers, then tore open the second foil package and undid his belt, pushing jeans and underwear just far enough down to free his cock. He rolled the condom on with deft fingers, lining up with Gavin's hole with a smooth motion and shoving in all the way whilst the Brit was still struggling for proper breath.

 

Gavin wailed at the pleasure-pain of the abrupt stretch, the thickness of Ryan making his eyes roll into the back of his head. His cry was muted into a strangled sound as one of Ryan's hands clamped around the back of his neck once more, Gavin's back dipping and the tops of his thighs touching his stomach as Ryan rolled into him with slow, deep motions that had him feeling every long inch of the older man pressing into him. Gavin let out a quiet, pathetic sound at the peak of every thrust, eyes falling half-closed as Ryan's hand slipped around his hip, yanking Gavin back and forcing himself even deeper, cock grinding against the brunet's prostate as he rapidly gained speed.

 

The Brit stared at nothing, focussed too entirely on the feeling of Ryan exacting pleasure from him to be paying much attention to his other senses. Time seemed to stretch endlessly around him and all there was was Ryan, moving into him so thoroughly and completely that Gavin felt like he could disappear under Ryan's might. The blond seemed to have taken his measure of flaying Gavin with his words, as he too was devoting all his attention to pounding into Gavin ever harder, ever faster, to leave his mark deep within the younger man. Gavin groaned endlessly, the sound made tight by his restricted airway.

 

Blood pulsed through his temples, a tangible feeling deep in his brain, and Gavin let out a few more stunted noises, stars bursting at the edge of his vision. He had a moment of panic where he thought the fireworks were going off early, then Ryan thrust against his sweet spot once more and he didn't care either way.

 

He could feel heat curling deep in his belly, searching for an outlet, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. There was no way to articulate that to Ryan, not that it would have mattered - even when Gavin jetted against the inside of his jeans, Ryan continued to hammer into him as if nothing had happened.

 

Gavin whimpered, hole clenching and edging on overstimulation, and finally Ryan's hips began to falter, speeding even further for a moment before shuddering and gradually slowing, the condom filling with heat.

 

By now, the sun had almost fully set, and Gavin shuddered as Ryan pulled out of him, tying off the condom and tossing it into the gloom that was the floor of the back seat. When the Brit finally gathered himself enough to roll over, Ryan was regarding him with a face cast in impassive shadow. Wordlessly, the older man pulled away, opening the side door and making his way back to the driver's seat. Gavin spent a few more minutes collecting himself, then used a clean corner of the microfiber towel Ryan had used earlier to mop up the inside of his jeans before pulling them back up. He scooted towards the still-open side door, groaning against clenched lips as his abused backside berated him for moving. He slunk around to the other side of the car, groaning quietly again as he slid into the passenger seat.

 

"So…" he began slowly after a few seconds of silence.

 

Ryan's hands tightened on the steering wheel, praying to god that Gavin wasn't going to start back into hypotheticals already.

 

Instead, Gavin simply continued, "That was… that was good. That was really good." He swallowed and stared straight ahead, knowing that he wouldn't be able to see much of Ryan's face in the dark anyway. "…Yeah."

 

He still saw Ryan nod once in his periphery, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

 

"It's close to eight now," the older man rumbled after several minutes had passed. "You should get to work."

 

Gavin gave a little start. "Oh, right, I should do that," he babbled, almost like he'd forgotten the actual reason that they were parked on top of the mountain. He scurried from the passenger seat and popped the boot, where he'd set up his mobile tech station earlier in the day. He began booting everything up, initiating several programs and immediately getting himself lost in the zone.

 

A small drone lifted out of its padded box as Gavin's finger flew across the control panel, quickly joined by two more. Each of the drones was recording, the feeds displayed on three different screens set up in the four wheel drive's boot.

 

The drones were set to a hivemind-like operation status, meaning that they would move in sync, and if one of the drones had to manoeuvre out of harm's way, the others would automatically adjust to give their brethren the space they needed. Once they reached Fielding's house, they would separate and each carry out their own task.

 

Gavin ran some quick calibration tests, ensuring that all the drones were responding correctly. Everything seemed to be in order, so he sent a command to the drones to return to their box, where they set themselves gently back down.

 

At twenty to nine, the tiny drones rose once more, near-silently streaking off towards Rockford Hills. Within minutes, they were in place, acting as Gavin's eyes and hands as he set about disabling the shutters from the relative safety of Mount Haan.

 

A few minutes more had the shutters rolling smoothly up, leaving Fielding vulnerable.

 

Gavin peered up over the back seat to tell Ryan he was done, but the hit man had already left the vehicle already without Gavin noticing, having been too absorbed in his own work. He felt stupid for a moment - of course Ryan needed more than ten minutes to prep for the shot, it wasn't anywhere near as easy as the movies made it out to be, he _knew_ that - then he got over himself and crept back into the back seat of the four-wheel, wanting to satisfy his sense of morbid fascination with Ryan's killing prowess, but also wanting to do it from the protection of the car.

 

Darkness cloaked Ryan's features entirely, but the ground around him was light in colour and it offered enough of a contrast that Gavin could still see his outline fairly clearly. His body hugged the ground in a way that had Gavin all but drooling, the seductive curve of him making the Brit wish he'd had the forethought to stash more than one condom on his person. His pants stirred with interest anyway, and he sent a half-hearted message to his cock to calm down.

 

The fireworks began, lighting up the sky with bright sparks and loud pops, but Gavin was much more transfixed by Ryan's body, by the way that after thirty seconds it tightened almost imperceptibly, a cracking sound almost entirely muffled by the fireworks. He stood smoothly, a neutral, almost serene expression on his face, and a series of red fireworks went off, aptly turning Ryan's face the colour of blood.

 

Gavin let out a whimper that sounded more like a moan.

 

There was no way that Ryan could have heard it, but his head snapped in Gavin's direction anyway, eyes narrowing. He would have looked predatory even without the gun in his hands, and there was no hope for Gavin. He dropped one hand between his legs, moaning again as he ground up against his wrist, and Ryan returned to the four-wheel with quick strides, hefting the rifle onto one shoulder as he yanked the door open.

 

He grabbed Gavin by the collar and tossed him out, sending him sprawling, then, with far more care than he'd displayed toward Gavin the entire evening, laid the sniper rifle down on the back seat before slamming the door. He turned and hauled Gavin to his knees, crowding the younger man against the car so that he was forced to scramble backwards on his knees through the dust.

 

His eyes lit with a savage gleam, Ryan gripped Gavin by the hair, holding the brunet's face level with his hips and drawing attention to the fact that the front of his jeans was beginning to tent once more. "You ready for another go?" he challenged.

 

Gavin couldn't nod, not with his hair twisted so tightly in Ryan's fist, so instead he rasped, "Please."

 

Ryan's mouth curved. "Look at you, all polite now. Maybe there's still hope for you yet."

 

Rather unceremoniously, Ryan undid his belt with his free hand, shimmying his hips slightly to work his jeans down enough to pull his half-hard cock out. Gavin eyed it and licked his lips, breath catching as Ryan began to stroke himself to fullness.

 

The Brit's fingers gripped uselessly at his skinny jeans, hips occasionally jumping upwards and little desperate sounds eking from his throat. Ryan languidly teased him as he stroked himself, cock thick and hard in his hand.

 

"Please," Gavin croaked again, and he barely finished the word before the tip of Ryan's cock was pressed against his lips, pressing in, sliding heavy over his tongue. He groaned, eyelids fluttering and hooding lazily. Ryan's cock hit the back of his throat and he made a sound of protest, his throat convulsing in unpreparedness. The older man pulled away slightly, giving Gavin just enough time to recover before he pressed in again, slower this time.

 

Inch after inexorable inch slid past Gavin's lips, and the younger man swallowed every few seconds, tongue still and breathing heavy through his nose as he diverted all his attention to not choking. After what felt like an eternity, Ryan finally bottomed out with a guttural sound, shoving the last half-inch or so in in one go.

 

Gavin's eyes watered, he could barely breathe, but he held it together, and the glimmer of proud surprise in the older man's eyes made it worth it.

 

Then Ryan began to thrust gently into his mouth - small, gentle motions at first, gradually building his way up to full pumps of his hips, edging into the territory of roughness. Gavin closed his eyes, working his tongue around Ryan's length as best he could.

 

A switch seemed to flip at some unknown cue, and Ryan was suddenly crowding Gavin even harder, the Brit stumbling back jerkily until the back of his head knocked against the four-wheel's door. Ryan used the fact to bury himself even deeper in Gavin's mouth, practically crushing Gavin's skull between his hips and the car at the apex of every thrust.

 

It was painful in a way that had no right to feel so damn good, and Gavin hummed mindlessly, incessantly in time with the way Ryan was fucking his face. He could feel himself straining against his zipper, and it made him whimper because he knew it was going to be a long time before Ryan would allow him the opportunity to touch himself. Involuntary tears prickled at his eyes at the continued rough treatment, streaking silently down his cheeks. His hands hovered uncertainly, wanting to grab at Ryan's legs for support but unsure of what the reaction would be.

 

He ended up doing it anyway as Ryan's thrusts grew even more forceful, clinging onto denim for dear life as the older man grunted above him, one hand braced against the car door and the other still tangled in the Brit's hair.

 

Gavin dared to switch his grip to the back of Ryan's thighs, squeezing, and Ryan's hips stuttered before devolving into an erratic rhythm that left him slamming Gavin's head against the car door as he brutally used the younger man's mouth to bring himself to a finish. Hot liquid surged down the back of Gavin's throat, and he swallowed - not that he'd had much of a choice. Ryan let out a low, satisfied groan above him, motions winding down into a few last long rolls of his hips before pulling his softening cock from Gavin's swollen red lips.

 

Ryan did up his pants wordlessly, and Gavin remained kneeling in the dust, a little too thoroughly used to contemplate standing under his own power. "C'mon," he murmured, lifting Gavin to his feet much more gently than the way he'd been treating him earlier.

 

That was, until he marched the Brit around to the front of the four-wheel and slammed him down against the hood, one hand fisted in the back of Gavin's shirt and the other fumbling for his belt. Gavin bit his lip, fingers splayed loosely against the hood, the metal still slightly warm from the heat of the set sun. His head tipped back slightly, his waist curving almost of its own accord as his jeans were shoved down around his knees. Then, he let out a shameless moan as Ryan licked a broad stripe against the centre of his own palm and wrapped his hand around Gavin's cock, using his spit and the precome already weeping from Gavin's tip as lubricant to slowly begin pumping along the younger man's length.

 

Ryan thumbed the head of Gavin's cock, both to collect more precome and because it made the Brit shudder and sigh beneath him. The brunet writhed as Ryan's hand built up a steady pace, already overdrawn, and the lithe way in which he moved almost made Ryan wish he hadn't been so rough with the younger man earlier, because Gavin's motions were tantalising enough to renew his interest for a third time. But, Gavin would be far too sore already to be able to stand any more of that kind of attention, so Ryan tamped down his own desires, and focussed instead on making Gavin fall apart once again.

 

It didn't take long.

 

All Ryan got as forewarning was Gavin's fingers curling a little tighter against the hood, his head tipping back a little bit closer to Ryan's hand, but it was enough for the hit man to pick up the pace a little, hand warm and firm as he pumped the Brit to his finish.

 

The fireworks had long since stopped, but Gavin half-swore he could hear them again, could feel them thrumming in his chest and filling his vision as he came, hard, his load shooting into the dirt. Ryan loosened his grip, giving Gavin time to breathe harshly as he collected himself.

 

Shakily, Gavin drew himself upright, allowing Ryan to do his pants up for him mostly because he didn't have the coordination left to do it on his own. He staggered his way to the passenger side, having to make more than one attempt at dragging the door open.

 

By the time he clambered in, Ryan was already seated on the driver's side and had started the car, the engine purring away. Gavin shut the door with a tired thud and Ryan took off, tires crunching over dirt.

 

Gavin opened his mouth to say something, to perhaps thank Ryan for the experience, or maybe ask him if it was one that he'd like to repeat at some point, but all that came out was a single, soft snore, then silence, exhaustion overcoming him and robbing him of consciousness. The corner of Ryan's mouth twitched up.

 

Finally, some peace and quiet.

 


End file.
